


Intimacy

by Salambo06



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Declaration of Love, First Kiss, First Time, Jealous John, M/M, POV John, POV Sherlock, Pining John, Vulnerable Sherlock, frotage, mention of suicidial thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 18:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7475793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salambo06/pseuds/Salambo06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John take a dancing lesson for a case. John doesn't like the instructor. Not at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter should be posted tomorrow, so keep an eye out for some sexy times ;)  
> Thank you to [Heather](http://snogbox1.tumblr.com/) for her job as a beta !  
> [My Tumblr](http://johnlockfulfillmenbt.tumblr.com/)  
> 

Sherlock was the center of everyone’s attention, and it was getting harder for John to stay in control.

He shouldn’t have agreed to this, but of course Sherlock had left him no choice and before he realised what was happening they were taking dancing lessons in some posh hotel. Or, if you asked John, Sherlock was taking a private dancing lesson.

“Everyone, look”, the instructor said, the hand on Sherlock’s lower back tightening on his shirt as John clenched his jaw, “Scott is standing just close enough for me to lead without it being obvious.”

A murmur of approval ran through the students, but John was only focused on the couple in front of him. He knew Sherlock was only playing a game so he could decide whether the instructor was guilty of the murder of several men and women over the past few weeks, but all John could see was Sherlock’s chest almost pressed against the other man’s and their joined hands as they swirled around the room.

“Are you sure you’ve never had lessons before?” The instructor asked, a flirtatious smile on his lips and John let out a loud breath.

Sherlock looked away as he replied shyly, “No, never,” and there was even a faint blush on his cheeks as the instructor pressed their bodies even closer.

It took all of John’s control not to grab Sherlock by the arm and pull him against his own body instead. He needed to regain some composure or Sherlock would notice, and then the situation could get much worse. John glanced at the clock, only twenty minutes left.

“Alright,” the instructor declared, stepping away from Sherlock but not removing the hand on his back, “Everyone get into pairs.”

John remembered he wasn’t supposed to know Sherlock as his flatmate made his way towards him and introduced himself under his fake name. John inhaled deeply before accepting Sherlock’s invitation to pair up together, and they made sure Sherlock could always have an eye on the instructor as they got in position.

“Alright,” the man said loudly, “We’re going to practice something which might seem easy, but in fact really isn’t when you’re dancing with strangers: intimacy.” John licked his lower lip, placing his hand on Sherlock’s hip and trying not to stare at Sherlock’s neck. He could almost smell Sherlock’s shampoo, and the urge to bury his head against the soft skin in front of him almost overwhelmed him. “You need to be close to your partner when you dance,” the instructor continued, “You have to become a whole.”

Sherlock was still focused on the man when he took John’s hand in his and brought their bodies closer together. John held his breath, their chest’s brushing against one another’s, and he forced himself to look past Sherlock’s shoulder to the far end of the room.

“For now, just swing together and try to connect with your partner,” the instructor finally said, before turning the music volume higher.

Soon everyone around them was dancing, and Sherlock initiated the first movement, John following instinctively. He tightened his grip around Sherlock’s hand and tried to concentrate on their dance, but the heat radiating from Sherlock’s body was making it hard to focus on anything else. He wanted to move closer, to press his nose to Sherlock’s neck and breathe him in. He wanted to lock their bodies together and melt into Sherlock. God, he wanted to kiss the man senseless and make him forget about anyone else.

“John,” Sherlock whispered, “Don’t be so tense or-”

Before Sherlock could finish the instructor was standing right next to them, “No,” he said, looking at John before stepping behind Sherlock, “You need to let Scott lead, like this.”

The man hugged Sherlock from behind, placing his hands over Sherlock’s to demonstrate his advice, but John saw red and before he could think twice about it, he snapped, “I think I can manage just fine on my own, thank you!”

The man gasped at him before stepping away, something like fear passing through his eyes as John glared at him, the soldier in him taking over. He didn’t care about their cover anymore. Sherlock was his and he intended to make it clear. The man stared at them for another second before moving to another couple and John cursed himself. There was no way Sherlock hadn’t deduced what had just happened, and John couldn’t do anything to take it back.

“John-” Sherlock began but John let go of him and stepped away.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, now he’s going to get suspicious.” He let go of Sherlock’s waist, looking at the floor as he rubbed at his nape, “You should have come alone.”

“He isn’t our murderer,” Sherlock said, forcing John to look back at him before saying, “His hands are too small, and his behavior is far from a cold blooded killer.”

“Oh,” John breathed out. He had just made a fool of himself for nothing, and now Sherlock’s eyes were traveling all over his face, deducing. “Can we go, then?”

Sherlock remained silent for a long moment before nodding, and John was out of the room in less than five seconds. Sherlock followed silently behind him, and neither of them said a word as they got into a cab and made their way back home. John forced himself not to glance at Sherlock sitting next to him. He knew all too well how much his face was saying now, all these years of wanting and never having the courage to ask, all these years of wondering “what if” and never daring to reach, to touch, to kiss.

The cab coming to an halt brought John back to reality and he let Sherlock pay, heading inside the flat quickly. He didn't want to talk to him yet, didn't want to explain, to listen as Sherlock deduced what had happened. Maybe he could go for a walk and by the time he came back Sherlock would have forgotten about it.

John snorted, as if that would happen.

The moment Sherlock closed the door behind him, John braced himself for the imminent deductions, but all Sherlock said was a quiet, “John.”

Neither of them moved for several seconds, John standing with his back turned to Sherlock.

“John,” Sherlock said again, “Dance with me.”

John repressed a sigh, wondering what game Sherlock was playing now, “Sherlock, what are y-”

Sherlock grabbed his arm, forcing John to turn around and face him, and John’s words died in his throat. Sherlock’s eyes were fixed on his, and John forgot for a moment how to breathe. He had seen Sherlock without his “mask” before, seen him at his most vulnerable, but Sherlock had never looked at him like this.

“Sherlock?” John asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Dance with me,” Sherlock said again and John wanted to tell him there was no music, that this was ridiculous, that they couldn’t just dance in the middle of their sitting room but he remained silent. He let Sherlock’s hand on his arm slide down to take his hand while he placed the other around John’s waist and brought their bodies closer.

John inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering closed as he placed his own hand on Sherlock’s hip. Memories from the last time they danced together in 221B came back to him, a time where there had been too much space, too many words unsaid between them, and John wondered once more if he shouldn’t just tell Sherlock.

“James was right,” Sherlock said suddenly and John tensed at the mere mention of the instructor’s name, “Dancing is all about intimacy.”

John didn’t reply, his chest rising quickly as Sherlock stepped closer and pressed their chests together. He could feel Sherlock’s hot breath against his temple, his lips just inches away from John’s skin, and John allowed himself to nuzzle his nose along Sherlock’s cheeks. He could almost taste it. The intimacy.

“When two people dance,” Sherlock continued, his voice a murmur now, “they share a unique connection. They need to trust each other.” John wanted to tell Sherlock he trusted him with his own life. “Dancing means you give yourself to someone else, you let someone else lead.”

If John had suspected already that Sherlock actually liked to dance, he had never imagined his flatmate was that passionate about it. It felt as if Sherlock was breathing the words into his skin. He felt the hand around his waist tighten, “Some people compare dancing with someone to-” Sherlock's voice trailed off for a moment and John felt him tense, “Some people compare dancing with someone to making love.”

John stopped their slow swaying, the words echoing inside the room and Sherlock’s grip loosened on his waist. Before Sherlock could pull away, John moved the hand on Sherlock’s hip to the man’s nape and kept their bodies pressed together. “Sherlock,” he breathed out, “Earlier I was- when we were at the dancing lesson, what did you deduce?”

Sherlock exhaled loudly, pulling away just enough to stare into John’s eyes, “I can never be sure,” he murmured, “not with you.”

John smiled, fingers playing with the soft curls on Sherlock’s nape as he said, “Tell me anyway.”

Sherlock scanned his face for several seconds before saying, “Your pulse was elevated and your breathing ragged. You held on to me tightly and tensed every time James came near us. You sent him away the second he touched me.” He stopped and John forced himself not to look away. “If I was certain-,” Sherlock continued, “If my own judgment, my own- feelings weren’t in the way, I’d say you’d shown all the signs of jealousy.”

John could have laughed with relief if Sherlock hadn’t look so vulnerable, and he leant in until their foreheads were resting against one another’s. Their joined hands were now resting by their side, and John caressed Sherlock’s palm with his thumb. “I could barely think properly,” he whispered, “watching him flirt with you, watching him touch you- God, Sherlock.”

Sherlock closed his eyes, nuzzling their noses together, “I’ve already deleted him, John.”

John let out a small laugh and he felt Sherlock shiver against him. Their lips were inches apart now, and John realised it could be so easy to lean in and kiss Sherlock, finally take the step that had seemed so huge for so long. “Sherlock”, he whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

Sherlock let out a shaky breath, nodding slightly, and squeezed John’s hand in his, “Yes, yes, please.”

John let the seconds stretch by before leaning in to brush their lips together. Sherlock inhaled deeply against him, and John made sure to keep the touch light, soft. He needed this kiss to be perfect, to be everything they deserved. Sherlock was completely still against him, and John slowly licked at his lower lip, taking it between his own and sucking. Sherlock let out a quiet moan and shivered again before melting into John’s arms. John played with his upper lip next, tongue darting out to taste but never asking more. He felt Sherlock relax more and more until he was the one parting his lips and seeking John’s tongue with his own. They both moaned loudly as their tongues swirled against one another, both of Sherlock’s hands now cupping John’s face, and John kissed him chastely again before pulling away.

“John”, Sherlock breathed against his lips and John kissed him again before he could say anything else. 

He had been waiting for too long to kiss this brilliant man, and he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to stop.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock couldn’t tell exactly how long he had been kissing John when the doorbell rang, but time had seemed to simultaneously freeze and speed up from the moment John had brought their mouths together. John sighed loudly against his lips as the sound echoed in the room and Sherlock tightened his grip around the base of his shirt, not yet ready to let go. 

“Can we just ignore it?” John whispered and Sherlock wanted to laugh and kiss him again and tell him he had dreamed about this for so long he still wasn’t sure it was really happening, but he simply nodded and tried to ease the knot forming inside his chest. “Good,” John smiled before kissing the corner of his lips and resuming their dance slowly. 

Sherlock could still remember the darkness of John’s eyes when James had tried to show them how to be close, how to become one during their dance, and the sudden hope that had filled him still lingered inside his head. John had said it himself, jealousy, but Sherlock still somehow had a hard time wrapping his mind around it. He knew about jealousy, of course he did after years of watching John go dates after dates while he stayed on his own, but he had never thought John felt the same. 

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock forced himself to focus back on John’s face, just inches from his. His eyes seemed brighter than usual, something like a glow lingering in the blue pupils, the wrinkles around them a shade lighter than his skin, and Sherlock felt the irresistible urge to touch. They were swaying together again and Sherlock automatically let John lead the dance. All this time, all these people assuming John was the one following Sherlock around when it had been the opposite from the very beginning.

“What are you thinking about?” John asked, smiling as he rubbed his nose along Sherlock’s cheekbone. 

“You,” Sherlock answered honestly. _When am I not thinking about you?_

John cocked his head to the side, “You don’t have to deduce your way through this,” he smiled, “You can ask me.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but wonder when it had become so natural to lean into John’s embrace and let the words he kept for so long spill out, “Why?” he asked, not sure what he wanted to know exactly, anything, everything, but John seemed to understand and he let the hand resting on Sherlock’s shoulder slide to his nape. 

“Because one day I was thinking about taking my own life and the next I was running all around London after you,” John whispered and the words felt like a caress on Sherlock’s lips, “Because you are insane, bloody mad sometimes, and there are times when I’m not sure I will ever be able to understand you entirely,” he laughed softly, “but you’re also brilliant and stunning and so damn beautiful.” 

Sherlock felt as if John had just sucked all the breath out of him, his words engraved in his memory like treasures. John smiled, Sherlock feeling more than seeing the stretch of his lips against his own, before he added, “Because I spent years wondering what if and was never brave enough to do something about it, and I’m not sure I can fight it anymore.”

“Then don’t,” Sherlock said, his voice sounding much deeper than usual and he cleared his throat. John was pulling away just enough to stare into his eyes again, and Sherlock let out a shaky breath, “You are the bravest man I’ve never known, John.”

“Not when it comes to this, to you,” John breathed out and his entire body seem to shudder in Sherlock’s arms. “I would have pretended nothing happened today if you hadn’t said anything.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to tell him he had never felt so scared before, John’s eyes fixed on him as Sherlock deduced his behavior during the class, but he decided against it and simply pressed his mouth to John’s again. He let John take control of the kiss, let him take what he wanted from him. Sherlock could count on one hand the number of people he kissed, and all of them for a case, and never, never it had felt like _this._

“I love you, Sherlock Holmes,” John whispered when they parted, proving once again just how brave he was, and Sherlock felt his knees buckle. John tightened his grip around him and breathed the words into his skin again, “I love you.”

Sherlock wanted to say it back, to make John understand he had managed to infiltrate every cell of Sherlock’s skin, but John was kissing him again and Sherlock let his body say it all. When John let go again, panting against his mouth, they had stopped dancing entirely. They stood frozen in the middle of the sitting room and Sherlock realised it always had to be here, in their home. 

“John,” he said, “earlier, when I talked about-” he trailed off but John smiled and nodded, letting him know he knew exactly what Sherlock was talking about, and Sherlock forced himself to hold his stare as he said, “I want it. With you.”

John’s eyes darkened and he licked his lower lip, the tip of his tongue brushing Sherlock’s mouth, “Are you certain?”

Sherlock exhaled loudly, “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

Silence stretched between them. John’s eyes were roaming all over his face and Sherlock wondered if it felt like this for other people when he deduced them. It felt as if John was reading him, looking for answers in the corner of his eyes and in the shape of his lips, and somehow, John seemed to find them and he smiled. “I trust you,” he said, and Sherlock remembered. _Intimacy._

“I trust you,” he replied and John laced their fingers together before pulling him toward the bedroom. Sherlock felt his heartbeat quicken, fantasies he had accumulated along the years rushing back to his mind and he wondered if John would be able to know, to tell just how much he had craved _this._

“Alright?” John asked when he reached Sherlock’s bedroom door and Sherlock was the one to push it open to usher them both in. John stopped in by the bed, bringing their bodies together again to kiss along the sharp bone of Sherlock’s jaw, “You were right you know,” he whispered as his hands trailed up and down Sherlock’s back, “Making love is all about trust, about giving up control to someone else, about intimacy.” He untucked Sherlock’s shirt from his trousers, “But at the same time, it is so much more.”

Sherlock moaned softly as John’s hand came in contact with his bare back. He arched into the contact, pressing their chests more firmly together and he felt John nudge his legs open so he could place one of his own between them. Sherlock’s entire body shivered as he felt John’s hardening erection against his thighs, and he blushed as he realised John must be able to feel his own too. 

“Making love means you let someone else see all of you,” John continued, his fingers now working on Sherlock’s shirt buttons, “You let someone else see your faults, the little marks and imperfections on your skin.” He slid Sherlock’s shirt off his shoulder. “You let someone else see you at your most vulnerable.”

John pulled away to kiss down Sherlock’s neck, his shoulders, before sucking one nipple into his mouth, “Oh, John.” Sherlock held on to John’s shirt, “Please.”

John kissed at the hard nub for a few more seconds before stepping away to remove his own shirt, and Sherlock got lost in the complexity of John’s tanned, muscular torso. He let his fingers touch, explore the skin he had dreamed about and marvelled at the shivers running through John each time he brushed his sides. “God, Sherlock, you have no idea how much I-” Sherlock stopped him by crashing their mouths together, not certain his brain would be able to hear more. His head was already spinning and more of John’s declarations right now would only make it impossible to focus, to remain standing. 

“John,” he breathed into his mouth, “I want it all.”

John kissed him again and in a matter of seconds, he was removing both of their trousers and pants. Sherlock laughed as they almost fall on the floor and never had he imagined sex could feel like this, happy. John hurried to push them on top of the bed, and Sherlock realised any further exploration of John’s body would have to be delayed until later. Right now he needed John right where he was, between his spread legs, their erections rubbing against each other and their tongues resuming their previous dance. 

“ _John_ ,” he moaned inside their kiss, feeling as if he could burst any moment, and he realised just how right John had been as he threw his head back on the pillow. At this very moment, Sherlock felt exposed to John’s stare but he didn’t care. He wanted John to see, to watch as pleasure overtook him so he could understand just how much Sherlock wanted him, just how much he loved him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” John whispered, starting to rock against him, “Absolutely breathtaking.” 

Sherlock planted one foot on the bed, locking his other leg around John’s waist as he arched into the contact. His cock was slick, probably with precome and the friction felt both amazing and too much at the same time. John’s mouth was traveling all over his face and neck and upper chest, tongue licking and lips sucking, and Sherlock couldn’t control his shaking hands. 

_Intimacy._

He held on to John’s naked back, nails digging into his skin. His breathing was getting ragged, as he moaned louder. John was all but panting now, head nuzzled against Sherlock’s arched neck. “Christ, Sherlock, you feel amazing.”

Sherlock was already too close, hovering over the edge of orgasm, and when John began to suck at his pulse point, Sherlock’s world went white as he came between their stomachs. His body went still under John’s but he felt John speed up his thrusts, all but rutting against him now as he raised his head to look down at him, “God, the way you sound, the way you felt, the way you looked, fuck!” John rutted against him a few more times before coming, his semen mixing with Sherlock’s but Sherlock could only focus on his face. Eyes wide, pupils blown, mouth hanging open as he moaned Sherlock’s name. 

Time slowed down again as Sherlock got lost in the afterglow. He shivered despite the warmth of John’s body on top of him and he felt John relax, lips kissing at his jaw and cheeks. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the tender caresses and letting the feeling sink in. He and John had made love. 

“I love you,” he whispered, realising he still hadn’t said it back and John raised himself on his elbows, staring down at him. Sherlock could read all he needed to know on his face at the moment and he sought John’s lips, melting into their kiss. 

_Intimacy_ , he thought, as John seemed to doze off on top of him, their stomachs sticky and Sherlock’s body aching from his lover’s weight. He wouldn’t have moved for anything in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comment are really appreciated :)


End file.
